A car waits on the tarmac with a driver rather than my father. The way it always is. I sit in the back alone, not speaking.
Eventually, the car pulls through the iron gates and crunches up the gravel drive. The Blake family home rises ahead of us with its red brick, ivy-dappled walls, and my da waiting on the front steps.
He never waits for me, and the fact his expression suggests he’s somewhat pleased, makes my stomach tighten.
I climb out of the car and offer him a respectful smile. “You’re outside early, Da. Are you going somewhere?”
“Tierney.” He closes the distance, and before I can brace for it, he pulls me into a brief embrace. “You did well, honeybee.”
My thoughts scatter instantly. He only uses that name when he’s pleased, when something has gone exactly the way he wanted it to.
“But I didn’t get the evidence they have on Connor,” I say quickly, the words tripping overeach other as they rush out. I clamp my jaw shut when my bottom lip threatens to give me away.
“No… you didn’t, but we won’t dwell on that part.” He pulls back, his hands settling on my shoulders as he looks at me and winks. “You got something better. You brought me pure gold.”
“What do we have on the Viacava’s?—”
“What do we not have on them?” The corners of his eyes crease as a broad smile pulls across his face. “They’re bad men who’ve done bad things and we have their secrets in our pocket.”
“But they know it was me, Da,” I tell him. “Bronx was there himself. We went head to head. The Viacavas know what I did.”
“Oh, don’t worry. They will get to know you properly very soon.”
“What are you planning? We need to protect Connor?”
“Connor will be fine,” he says, patting my arm. “I have a plan. Trust me, honeybee. This will be my best move yet.”
4
BRONX
Walking into Kingston's office with bloodstains on my shirt and claw marks on my face probably isn't the best way to say,“I told you so.” But nobody ever accused me of having good timing.
The scratches sting every time I move my jaw. I drag my thumb across the raised lines where her nails broke skin, replaying the way she struggled against me, those blue eyes blazing like she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands.
She nearly did.
I haven't slept. I caught the first flight out of Bucharest after Tierney took off, running on three black coffees and a stale airport sandwich.
Once I landed at JFK International, I took an Uber straight here because the lashing is gonna come one way or another, and I’d rather get it over with before Kingston shows up at my condo to inflict Christ only knows what kind of torture on me.
The space screams class andsophistication…floor to ceiling windows, mahogany, and lots of expensive art that looks like it was created by a kid in kindergarten. It gives off the we’re legitimate businessmen vibe, even though everyone here knows exactly where the bodies are buried.
Kingston sits behind his desk, glaring at me as I push open the door. Our father, Lorenzo, stands by the window, staring at me with a stony look on his worn face.
And Reign stands in a corner with his arms crossed, watching all of us with eyes that never miss a goddamn thing.
The door clicks shut behind me and I brace myself for what I know is coming next.
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Kingston barks. He doesn’t waste time or words. No “How was your flight, Bronx?” Nope, just the knife blade, straight to the throat.
I drop into the chair across from him and sprawl out, my legs stretched in front of me. Screw him if he thinks I’m gonna squirm.
“I made a judgment call,” I say.
“It was a shitty one. You made a goddamn mess of this mission.” He's doing that thing where his voice gets quieter the angrier he gets. Terrifying, if you're not used to it. But I grew up with it, so it’s like water off a duck’s ass for me. “I told you to stand down. To wait for the team. To let us handle it strategically.”
“Yeah, and while I waited, the girl was downloading intel on us. She would have strolled out of there with God knows how much Viacava intel. Our names, K. Our operations. Everything. Do you get that?”
